For those who love a challenge.

For six weeks I have been unable to read myself out of the remaining deficit. I have 50 pages to go before I am back at par and back on track to actually reading the whole Behemoth in one year’s time.

Which, by the way, is a deadline of March 16th, 2017.

It feels like, all of a sudden, that’s not very far off. I wouldn’t be lying if I told you I wished I was already on that 1815th page. But, I suppose, that is how things that take so much time and effort go. I’ve always been a destination person. I know that corny saying “It’s about the journey, not the destination” is true, but damn I have a hard time really living it. Every time I finish a challenge, a project, or even a book, I’m left with this small pocket of sadness; and yet, while I know this is coming, I can’t help but wish it were already here.

The danger with this type of thinking is that you’re always looking forward and that’s not necessarily a good thing. Because you’re always wanting what’s next, what’s to come, and you forget to appreciate the moment, the right here and right now. When this is all said and done, an entire year of my life will have passed. Not an insignificant amount of time, is it? I have done many things in addition to reading the dictionary… but I have also neglected a great many things as well. And this is where my stubbornness kicks in. I’m not much of a quitter. It’s not easy for me to walk away from things. If I say I’m going to do something, it feels like I don’t have a choice – I have to do it. So while I have thought about throwing in the towel many times, moving on, and focusing on new projects, my relationship, and my physical health… I am still here with my ever-present dictionary sidekick, watching the pages dwindle and March 16th approach.

As of late, I have been able to retain a better balance of life than a few months ago when I was spending upwards of two hours a day reading the Behemoth. So that’s been nice.

Anyways.

Let’s get to what you’re actually here for. The letter “P” is the third most word heavy letter of the alphabet, comprising a total of 147 pages of the dictionary. I have been reading words that begin with the letter “P” for over 3 weeks. So I think it’s only fair that when we jump into the words we start with pee. Yeah, yeah, everyone knows it means urinate. But the interesting fact of the day is… why? Well let me impart some dictionary knowledge upon you. We say we “gotta go pee” because pee is the written form of the letter “p” and “p” is the first letter of the word “piss.” So now you know.

My favourite word of the last three weeks is palooka which is what you’d call an oaf or a lout. Sorry… I don’t have any extra dictionary knowledge to drop on you about why for this one, other than that the origin is unknown. But doesn’t it sound fun? I think I might start using this as an endearing term for my sweetie. It has that kind of ring to it, doesn’t it? “I love you my sweet palooka.” I mean, if you can call your significant other a pookie, babe, big daddy, cuddle muffin, doodle bug, lambkins, shmoopsie poo – I could go on forever, here – I think palooka fits right in.

In a close second place is the word pendragon. This word describes a medieval beast that blasted ink from it’s nostrils.

Okay, fine. That was a lie. It’s actually a wordsmith who slays the competition with bad ass word configurations…. Sorry – that was a lie too. I really just want it to mean that. I love the word, but the definition is lame. It’s actually (I swear this is the truth this time) an ancient British or Welsh prince, often as a title. So, I mean, if I had the title of pendragon I’d feel pretty awesome, but I don’t and neither does anyone else… unless we all started to use it as in my second made up definition. Thoughts? Anyone? We could force it to mean a bad ass wordsmith – an ink breathing curator of infinite written talent!… Spitting out inky word-blots of sheer glory! Whose with me!? Can I get a robust “hell yeah!”?

Guess I’m all alone on that one. Ah, well, c’est la vie.

So for the sake of transparency, I’ll admit to you that I wrote everything up until this paragraph yesterday. This is important, because today something happened.

Let me tell you all about the geekiest moment of excitement I had today. This story really begins many a day ago when I read the word post-prandial in the dictionary and thought it was great because I didn’t know that there was a word for something “happening immediately after a meal.” I was also a touch disappointed because I would probably never use it since it really isn’t that common of a word. So I took a moment to appreciate it and then I moved on. Now fast forward to today. I was on the infallible internet doing my research on a product for work… and right there, in one review among hundreds, was the sentence:

… you can announce to your family, “That was vegan, you know,” as they’re laying down their forks in postprandial bliss.

Boomshakalaka! That’s lexical synchronicity right there. Was I just wondering why the hell I’m reading all these words, most of which I’ll never use/need/see again in my life? Was I getting a little down about this challenge? A little impatient? A little unappreciative? Maybe. But not anymore! You never know when some unsuspecting word like post-prandial is going to just jump up and bite ya. Or something like that.

And it’s those small moments of brilliance that act like a whisper in my ear, “keep going.”

Before I wind things up, I have a few other words that deserve mention. Like panleukopenia, which is a word workout for your mouth and means “feline distemper.” I really just included it because I will never use it again as it is the equivalent of running a marathon when you could just do a 5K and say your little critter has the “cat plague.” I don’t plan on ever running a marathon.

Another thing I have learned lately is that a pound cake is a rich cake originally made with a pound each of butter, sugar, flour, and eggs. Another thing they could have called it was a heart attack. Seriously. That’s crazy.

And last, but certainly not least, I unfortunately have to make mention of one of the dictionary’s more messed up words. Okay, not so much the dictionary’s word but the actual thing itself. Now, I have been guilty of talking like a poser and uttering horrible things like, “what’s up in the hizzle? Let’s grab a bizzle.”

I just got really embarrassed typing that out. But it’s true. I’ve said both those lines… many times. I’m so ashamed.

Anyways. It’s this sloppy way of talking I sometimes engage in with my friends when we’re being dorks. However, I found a word in the Behemoth that sounds just like that: pizzle. At first glance it sounds funny, right? If my friends and I were to use it, it would be for something like, “I’m going to the bathroom for a pizzle.” That, however, is not the correct usage. At all. It’s actually “the penis of an animal, especially a bull, formerly used as a whip.”

So even though I thought a pound cake was ridiculous, this is straight up bizarre. Who uses a dick as a whip?? And on that horrible imagery, I’m going to leave you. Tune in next time to see where else the dictionary will take me…. If you think your ready for more strange and sometime wonderful and sometimes really, really horrible words.

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Prepare yourselves folks. Because I’ve been treating you pretty good so far… you know, choosing the best words to pass along to you without making you slog through the dictionary yourselves. Today, however, that changes. So watch this video and share this painstaking experience with me.

If you actually made it all the way to the end, I applaud you. (Though I’m willing to bet no one did and I really don’t blame you for tapping out.) I know it wasn’t easy. And that’s now 8 minutes of your life you’ll never get back. Which is pretty insignificant when compared to the amount of time I’ve already dedicated to reading The Behemoth… that being somewhere between 90 and 100 hours so far.

Jeez. I’m going to be able to do so many things when this challenge is over.

Anyways, it’s not always like what you just witnessed. There really are some awesome things in that big old book of words. Take murder for example. Okay, that maybe came out wrong. I don’t mean murder is awesome. I’m all about non-violence. But! The second sense of the word is “an unpleasant, or dangerous state of affairs” and I think it’s awesome that the definition made me laugh out loud…. Because, really – what an understatement. Imagine someone being murdered in cold blood and the newscast comes on the TV with the anchor saying “The family of Alfred Thompkins mourns an unpleasant state of affairs. Mr. Thompkins was murdered by a deranged psychopath.” Yeah, I don’t think so.

Some other thing that I have recently learned… a musk-ox is “a large goat-antelope”. I didn’t see that coming. Also, we are all basically netheads because most of us are “frequent users of the internet.” And… the word nice was originally a Middle English word meaning stupid/wanton from Old French for silly/simple. That one makes me a little sad because I can see the evolution at work. Nice people generally get taken advantage of the most for being caring, trusting, generous and good to others. Which boomerangs back around to them being kind of stupid when they get taken advantage of. Kind of like the dog biting the hand that feeds it. Most of us have been there, getting bit by our dogs… we’ve been the nice guy… and where did we finish? Last! Ah, but thank goodness for Karma right? Good things are a-coming. Right? Right? I think so. So despite the word’s origins, stay nice. You’re not stupid. You’re a good person and the world needs more people like you.

Original photo courtesy of M01229 via Flickr. Adapted by me.

And while we’re on the subject of stupid… to all my hunter friends, don’t get angry the next time I call you a nimrod. It’s actually a compliment meaning, in the second sense of the word that you are “a skilled hunter.” Well, I guess you won’t really know for sure though, because in the third sense, it also means “an inept person.” So… happy hunting ya nimrod!

Now I saw a news story the other day in which kids didn’t know that beef came from a cow or that when they were eating their burger they were eating a cow. There are words sort of like that. We get accustomed to words without really knowing what they mean sometimes. For example, o’clock. We all know what 6 o’clock is. It’s 6 in the morning. Or 6 at night. But did you know that o’clock means “of the clock”? It’s not a surprising definition, but it reminds you that sometimes you don’t think critically. You don’t know the why, but the word is so ingrained that you don’t think to ask why.

There is, however, something I want to ask “why” about, and it is… why is an ordinary seaman “a sailor of the lowest rank, that below able seaman”? Titles aside, you’d think that your common, ordinary seaman would at least be able. Their ranking system kind of says that the average seaman isn’t able. Not really good odds on your ship since that puts half of them as unable. Maybe changing the titles would make people feel more at ease.

Another thing I’ve noticed since I began this challenge, is that there is a form science dedicated to everything. I mean everything. In just the past two weeks, I’ve come across orthoepy, “the scientific study of the correct pronunciation of words” and oenology “the study of wines”. If I knew that oenology was a thing when I was 18… my career path would probably have gone a lot differently.

Next up I have to talk about some words where I have some sort of an appreciation for the way in which they were defined. First, is overkill, being defined in the second sense as “the amount by which destruction or the capacity for destruction exceeds what is necessary for victory or annihilation.” Pretty sure when you’re talking about annihilation, there is no such thing as overkill. But what a grand definition. I mean, it’s big, you know? I usually use overkill for more simple things, like the amount of homework assigned was overkill. And that’s not exactly something that would destroy the world as we know it.

Similarly, the definition of overwhelm in the third sense is “bring to sudden ruin/destruction; crush.” Yup, being overwhelmed is a pretty monumental thing. But again, I usually take it more along the lines of “I’m overwhelmed with the amount of chores I have” but I wouldn’t say that means I will be ruined or crushed. I can… and will… *Cue gladiator music* … survive my chores!

Okay, okay. I know I put you through the gears in making you watch me read the entry for just one word from the dictionary. So I won’t drag on forever here. Here’s a list of some of the other words I either learned, found the definition to be interesting, or just simply liked from the past two weeks:

Orgulous – haughty, proud

Orphan drug – a drug that is useful but is not commercially available for the pharmaceutical company producing it unless it is granted tax credits and other special status

Overweening – arrogant, presumptuous, conceited

Olivaceous – olive green; of a dusky yellowish green

Obstreperous – 1. Unruly, resisting control 2. Noisy, vociferous

Obstinate – 3. Inflexible, self-willed

Normal school – a school or college for training teachers

Nullity – 2a. the condition of being non-existent b. a mere nothing

As always.. thanks for reading! If you want to know as soon as the next post is up, click on the little blue rectangle at the top of the page to the right that says “Follow Exit Sideways.”

Week 32-33 Stats

Starting Word: Munition Ending Word: Pacific Daylight Time

Total Pages: 1114/1815 Ahead/Behind: -51 pages

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As I write this, the 3rd Trump vs Hilary debate plays in the background. And I think back to a word I read earlier this week: mountebank. A word which means, in it’s second sense “an iterant quack appealing to an audience from a platform.”

To which I say… apt.

I also say thank goodness for the Medicine Line, which is the “Canada-US border, especially from Ontario westward,” to separate us from them. I mean, these candidates and the amount of ridiculous that comes out of their mouths really is a bit of a mindfuck (Something which “manipulates or disturbs a person psychologically”) so let’s not spend another mo (a moment) going down this dark and troublesome path.

Instead, let’s talk about, oh, how about Movember coming up? That’s a lot better isn’t it? People fundraising for a good cause… beautiful moustaches sprouting from the faces of thousands of men… it’s enough to make you believe in the milk of human kindness – “kindness regarded as natural to humanity.” Now, for all you concerned about the state of your lip caterpillars, just know that there is something called a moustache cup, which is “a cup with a partial cover to protect the moustache when drinking.” So… sort of like a sippy cup in a way. But for a grown man instead of a child and instead of protecting everything from the cup’s contents, you’re protecting the thing that means everything to you from the cup’s contents: your ‘stache.

Which brings me to the next word. Mastoid – “shaped like a woman’s breast.” Now I clearly know what breasts look like, as I am endowed with a pair of them… but why does that shape have its own name? Is every rounded hill top a mastoid? Or does it require a nipple? And if so, is there really anything that is truly mastoid shaped? And most importantly, does anyone ever say “oh look. There’s a mastoid cloud floating across the sky.”? Or any other version of that question?

Just some thoughts. But let’s move on to something much more important.

I’ve mentioned it before, but reading the dictionary shows what our society is really like. After all, our language is a reflection, showing us back to ourselves through the words that we use and how certain words are defined. For example, masculine means “manly, vigorous.” Which is a great thing when you consider that vigorous means “physically strong, healthy and robust.” Now let’s compare that with a term I read over two months ago, that being feminine and meaning “womanly, effeminate.” Which isn’t so great when you consider that effeminate is defined as “characterized by or proceeding from weakness, delicacy.”

You see, womanly doesn’t equate with effeminate. You can be very womanly and you can be strong, in every sense of the word. But these words are defined in these ways, used in these ways because that is what we’ve made them into. Except that now, that lens in which we see this world is cracking, slowly and bit by bit, as people are realizing that these words, these ideas are faulty. It is the feminine uprising… and you know what? It has been strong and it has been powerful and this world is changing. As for this definition of feminine? Well, I don’t think it fits anymore. So let’s finish smashing that lens. Let’s not just abandon the idea that to be feminine is to be weak, let’s destroy it completely. Because we’re not. And the world is just starting to understand exactly how wrong that premise is.

Now, this isn’t the first time the dichotomy between how men and women are viewed and treated has risen in the past 7 months I’ve been reading the dictionary. Far from it, in fact. Some days it feels like I’ve dived off the deep end into a pool of misogynistic and deprecating terms for women or their bodies. And, like the multitude of words that show the darkness humanity is capable of, it’s sickening. But for the moment, I’ll save you from that particular disappointment in mankind. [I will share the extent of this kind of language with you, but I want to read every word before I do.]

So let me end this post with a few of the fun words I liked from the last two weeks. Your Molson muscle is actually your beer belly, named after John Molson… you know… of Molson Canadian. But if you’re not a beer kind of person, then maybe you’d like some moo juice, which I’m sure you realize is just milk. And if that doesn’t suit your fancy, then perhaps you’d rather have some gin, otherwise known as Mother’s ruin.

Beyond beverages, I also learned of the word mawkish, meaning “having a faint sickly flavour.” But what I really want to know about that… is what is a sickly flavour? I mean, someone can look sickly, sound sickly, feel sickly, but what tastes sickly? Well, other than vomit. By saying flavour it makes it sound like it’s more of a spice or a meal with a particular vomit flavour to it. Which, I suppose, if you’re serving a mawkish dish, you’re probably not going to get too many compliments to the chef.

And that’s where I’ll stop for today! Thanks for reading.

Week 30/31 Stats

Starting Word: Mary Magdalene, St. Ending Word: Muniment

Total Pages: 1020/1815 Ahead/Behind: -75

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Reading the dictionary is like trying to get fit after you’ve let junk food annihilate your existence. You hit the gym and you watch the miles build, you count the reps, the crunches, the calories, and you’re giving so much but that damned scale barely budges. But you do it, week after week, and then one day you realize you’ve lost 10 pounds of excess weight. But that’s not where you quit, because you’re not done yet. You haven’t reached your goal. So you keep going, week following week following week following week following week following week….

Your entire existence has been redefined by the effort you’re putting forth. You’re tired. But you can’t quit. You’ve come so far and even though that counts for something, you know what you set out to do. So even though your muscles are aching you wake up and you begin again.

And while this is required, perhaps even admirable, there is still a cynical exhaustion that comes with it.

You see, in a way, the dictionary haunts me. The bookmark I use was something my significant other had made me a few years ago. It was charming, once upon a time – an indication of sweet romance. But now, the meaning has become much more literal… in an unfortunate way. Every morning I find the place I had left off reading from and every night I place the bookmark as I close The Behemoth for a night’s rest. And there’s that book mark reminding me that tomorrow is going to be the same. Every morning. Every night. Every morning. Every night. Day after day, week after week, month after month.

You’d think I’d just use a different bookmark wouldn’t you?

Nope.

I am just over half way and sometimes I look at the braid of my bookmark sticking out from between the pages and I feel, well, a bit more than a little stupid for ever taking this on. But other times I look at it and feel like I’m accomplishing something great. That’s how it goes with anything. When you put your effort towards something and it demands so much from you – you’re proud. Even if it’s something as peculiar as reading the dictionary.

I had a conversation the other day with a friend and she said I should make my next challenge to NOT do a single challenge for a year. Sounds easy right? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn’t do it. Because working towards something – whether it’s perhaps more practical like running a marathon or writing a novel – it gives you a sense of purpose; it’s rewarding. And that’s something we all need. It goes beyond work and relationships and family. This is that extra thing you do that’s all yours.

But that doesn’t mean that it’s easy. Or that you’re not going to want to quit. Or that you might feel genuine hate for what you’re doing at times. But to persevere, to conquer the giant, to slay the dragon… well that feeling trumps it all. And it feels pretty damn good.

Alas, I am not there yet. This giant – The Behemoth – is still requiring much more slaying.

I usually do a halfway point check in with each challenge and though I’m now past that, I’m still going to do a belated check-in of the vitals:

Mentally I’m exhausted. This is due to the fact that I fell so far behind at the get-go that I now, each week, usually try to double the required reading. Over the past few weeks I have also had what I’m calling a “pre-headache.” It’s not an actual headache, but my head hurts and feels like it could develop into a full-blown headache.

Emotionally I’m a roller coaster. Sometimes I’m feeling bad ass, crushing page after page. Other times doubt creeps in as I wonder just what the hell I’m doing and I feel like a freak for spending so much time doing this. But then I read an awesome word I didn’t know or learn a historical fact and all is swell.

Physically… I’m a train wreck. I mean, other than toting this nearly 5 pounds of definitions around everywhere I go, I don’t have time for regular exercise. I play sports a couple times a week, ride my bike to work, and go on an occasional hike, but my poor dumbbells from the Chin Up Challenge have unfortunately been much neglected. I had also taken up drinking coffee for the past 4 months (though I just quit this past Monday) to keep me going.

I don’t know what category this fits under… but I am also now acutely aware of paper density. The dictionary has very thin pages.

Overall, this is a surprisingly demanding challenge thus far (and let’s be real – will probably only feel more demanding the closer to finished I get) but, like I said above… I can’t quit. I wanted to do this and now I’m going to see it through to the end. Learning things I didn’t know before, especially words, is really awesome. It also makes me want to read the Encyclopedia. But that’s a whole other beast I’m not actually considering… yet. I’ve learned a lot from the dictionary and would with the Encyclopedia even more so. Plus, that would be a much easier read.

Now, I’m full of little tidbits and facts that come popping up in every day conversation. It’s gotten to the point that whenever I diverge some random piece of information, my significant other asks just one word, “dictionary?” To which the answer is yes about 95% of the time.

To sum it all up: yeah, wanting to read the dictionary is weird… but also awesome.

Now, because I know you’d all rather have read about the last two weeks of interesting words, I won’t completely short change you on this post: The second sense of the word mad money is “emergency cash carried by a woman on a date for bus fare if needed.” If needed. Hmmm. Now I wonder what kind of situation that would be…

Week 28/29 Stats:

Starting Word: lotus-eater Ending Word: Maryland

Total Pages: 949/1815 Ahead/Behind: -76 pages

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You thought I gave up didn’t you? Any sane person probably would have. But no. I’ve just been eyeball deep in definitions for the past month, chipping away at this deficit I’ve been in since the get-go. I am now only 106 pages behind, down from the nearly insurmountable 242 at the peak of my shortfall. I am also past the six-month mark. I know I don’t have to dumb this down, but… that’s six monthsOF MY LIFE.

I am also now on the letter “L.”

But let’s back track a bit and see just what words I learned, liked or simply saw over the past month and now want to share with you.

First off, I have to say: I am not from the city. I have down-home, back-country, small-town roots. So I didn’t know what HOV stood for. High octane vehicle? Not mine. Human occupied vehicle? Aren’t they all? Turns out, I didn’t have to pull out google to find out. It stands for High Occupancy Vehicle. I also found out that google ranks up there with Grammy winners, kings of days past, and those awarded the Nobel Prize. That’s right… Google has its own entry in the dictionary: search (a term) on the Internet using the search engine Google.

You know you’re a big deal when your name becomes a verb.

And speaking of the internet…. I think it deserves a better entry than “a global computer network providing a variety of information and communication facilities, consisting of interconnected networks using standard communication protocols” I mean, come on, this is the biggest mother of an invention that has seamlessly enslaved billions of people. Maybe “The Almighty ruler of the modern world” would suffice?

A few new learnings include discovering that a goober is a peanut; that Toronto is also known as Hogtown; and, that the second sense of the word giddy is “overexcited as a result of success, pleasurable emotion, etc; mentally intoxicated.” I like that. Mentally intoxicated. I suppose if I were to say I was mentally intoxicated people would probably think that meant I was crazy. But hey, I already admitted to that. I am reading The Behemoth, after all. I find that there are a lot of words that mean the same as something else, but are just a more interesting way of saying it.

Like one of my favourites from the past few weeks: intestinal fortitude. It’s just another way of saying courage or guts, but it’s more unique. It nearly slipped right past me as one of the many mundane words because it sort of sounds like a medical term until you pause and think about it and realize hot damn! it’s basically awesome.

Sorry. I really wanted to throw hot damn in there because I wanted to bring to light that it’s another term worthy of space in the dictionary, being defined as “expressing admiration.” I’m right close to half way through The Behemoth and I still have a soft spot for the silly and surprising words that get to take up space in this big book of the English language.

Now, let’s talk about something important…. The dance floor. It’s the place you bust out your wild and wacky moves and get your body grooving. Anything goes: the shopping cart, the sprinkler, the ChaCha, even head banging and high kicking have their place (as those who’ve seen me on the dance floor well know). But don’t think that you should try the ever popular horizontal mambo out there. Because things would get a little awkward since that would mean you’re having sex on the dance floor. There’s a time and place. Okay. There are many times and many places. This just isn’t one of them. And don’t think you could get away with a knee-trembler either, meaning “an act of sexual intercourse between two people in a standing position.”

Aannd… moving on!

I need to talk about the ladies a bit. First up we’ve got Lady Godiva who was an “English noblewoman, wife of Leofric, Earl of Merica. According to a 13th century legend, she agreed to her husband’s proposition that he would reduce some unpopular taxes if she rode naked on horseback through the marketplace of Coventry.” Well, well, well. I’m not actually too sure what I want to say about this. What a way to govern. So here’s a woman who’s willing to do whatever it takes for the good of the people. Contrasted with the guy who’s actually in power who makes decisions based on bets of humiliation. That involve his wife. He must have been a real winner.

Next, we have Lady Jane Grey who was the Queen of England for nine whole days in 1553. The Duke of Northumberland forced her to marry his son and persuaded the Protestant king Edward VI to declare that she should succeed to the throne rather than his Catholic half-sister Mary Tudor. She was deposed after 9 days of being Queen and later was executed to avoid possible rebellions by Protestants.

There is so much wrong with this. Her story starts with being forced to marry someone and ends with execution to avoid possible rebellions. Who kills someone over possible unrest? Over-react much? Obviously there’s more to this tiny blurb of history, but what a raw deal for Lady Jane Grey. She probably didn’t even want to be Queen either. Puts your own life into perspective a bit doesn’t it? I mean, you’re probably not royalty… but you’re also probably not being executed on a big “maybe.”

You know, when I read get even and it was defined as “achieve revenge,” I had thought that was a bit peculiar. As in revenge is something you achieve… like an A+ on your history paper. But after talking about Lady Jane Grey, I’m sure revenge would have felt like the greatest of all achievements to her.

And since we’re somewhat on the topic of great injustices… have you heard the term Hundred Flowers? This was when citizens of China, between 1956 and 1957, were told to voice their opinions of the Communist regime and then lo and behold after unrest and severe criticism of the regime, those who did voice their negative opinions, well they were persecuted. WTF? You asked for this! Literally. That’s like asking “does my ass look fat in these jeans?” then decking someone when they say “actually, yeah it does.” Why ask for an opinion if you don’t want to hear it? You just never can trust the government. But that’s not really my opinion on the government… Or is it?

Oh and no, your ass doesn’t look fat…

Now you don’t know if your ass looks fat or not. And if we were face to face, you’d probably be giving me the old hairy eyeball. Which means you’d be looking malevolently or threateningly at me through narrowed eyes so you’d be looking through your eyelashes…. Ah shucks – your ass doesn’t look fat. Sheesh. I just wanted an excuse to tell you about the hairy eyeball. You don’t need to have kittens about it. That meaning “be extremely upset, anxious or nervous.”

Alright folks, now that I have enlightened and insulted, I think I’ve really accomplished all I could with this post. Catch you next time.

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In just a few weeks I’ll have spent half a year with Bertie the Behemoth.

…

What? No applause? That’s okay. I can’t say it’s been easy, but I also haven’t been a dictionary-reading champion whose earned that moment on the podium with a gold medal hung around my neck. I mean, there’s still time for that, but, well, it might just be a Forlorn Hope(a persistent or desperate hope that is unlikely to be fulfilled)

However.

There has been something I’ve been searching for with every definition I’ve burnt through and it has evaded me for hundreds of pages, numerous months and countless days! But, finally, at long last I have found it! And I found it in the definition for none other than Mr. Sigmund Freud.

You see, beyond this quaint little blog here, I’m also a gainfully employed writer and in my line of work if I’m given an opportunity to slip in a pun or a double entendre I most definitely will.

Things like this.

And this.

And this.

(Just to clarify, these weren’t my doing.)

Now, when I began reading the dictionary all I could think was “how do they keep it so straight forward?” Definitions are boring. I have to say it. Their job isn’t to entertain or convince, but to inform with no prejudice. And yet there is so much potential to have fun with them. How do the lexicographers and editors and everyone else involved resist? I don’t think I could. And apparently, for just one, short moment… neither could they.

It all happened right out of the blue. I was sitting there in my low-riding king’s chair, dutifully reading as I sipped my morning coffee. And then…

Bam.

Freud, Sigmund – Austrian neurologist and psychotherapist. The first to draw attention to the significance of unconscious processes in normal and neurotic behaviour, he was the founder of psychoanalysis, and his theory of the sexual origins of neuroses aroused great controversy; his works include The Interpretation of Dreams, Totem and Taboo, and The Ego and the ID.

For a moment I was stunned. And then I leapt to my feet and hoisted The Behemoth to the air. The day had finally come! They are not lexicographical robots! It was so subtle I could have missed it, but there it was in all of its inky glory. Aroused. Whoever wrote this definition could have used a lot of other words, but they chose aroused when talking about sexual neuroses from the guy who introduced the Oedipus Complex concept to the world.

Thank you, whoever you are, for showing that even the best can’t resist the temptation. It was perfect, by the way.

Now that you know the single greatest moment of the past three weeks (and quite possibly the past half a year) it’s time for all the runner-ups.

I’ll kick it off with Foo(used to name temporary, hypothetical, or representative variables or files). It’s a straight-up fun word to say. And while it’s more of a programming thing, I think I’ll start titling my works-in-progress “Foo” since they’re only temporary. You know what I’m talking about. Everyone has opened up that save as dialog box and punched in Final Draft.doc clicked save and sat back thinking it was a job well done.

But then soon, you’ve got Final Draft 2.doc and Final Draft 3.doc and Final Draft 3 Second Attempt.doc and One More Final Draft.doc and One More Fucking Final Draft.doc and The Last Fucking Draft I Fucking Swear.doc and finally … FUCK THIS I QUIT.doc.

But that’s just a footling (trivial, silly) thing.

You know, since Mr. Freud’s definition started this all off with the whole arousal thing… let’s walk down that path a little further and talk about the French. Perhaps this is some naivety on my part, but there is definitely something going on with them and I can’t quite put my finger on it. It started with French Kiss(a kiss with one partner’s tongue inserted in the other’s mouth) and while it didn’t stand out other than that the definition itself really made it sound more mechanical than sensual, it did lead to French Letter and French Safe, both of which mean “a condom.” That’s 3 words on the sexual side of things that all happened bang, bang, bang. So. French people, tell me what’s going on here. If “French” gets tagged on something, it has to somehow relate to sexy time? Is this a long-standing tradition or what?

In keeping with what seems to be this post’s theme… I also came across John Ford who was a writer of revenge tragedies e.g. ‘Tis a Pity She’s a Whore! While I haven’t read this particular book, the title certainly seems to scream “revenge tragedy.” Literally. It even comes with an exclamation mark. I’m thinking he was once a lover scorned and never quite got over it. But that’s just a guess…

Next on the theme… we’ve got the ever popular fornicate whose definition goes: “(of people not married or not married to each other) have sexual intercourse.” So… as an unmarried person, I can only speculate at this point, but this definition seems to reinforce the idea that tying the knot puts the ol’ brakes on a couple’s sex life… well, unless they’re doin’ it with other people, that is… apparently. If you’re hitched – you ain’t fornicating! Maybe it’s cause then… you’re making love.

PFFFFTTTTT! Yeah, right.

At least those married couples can still engage in Frottage (Sense 2 – the practice of touching or rubbing one’s body against the clothed body of another person usually in a crowd, as a means of obtaining sexual gratification) Ahem. You all know this is really just called dirty dancing right? Okay, I’m starting to feel uncomfortable about all these sexual references.

So let’s talk about fucking.

I got you a little with that one, didn’t I?

Fuck – (in sense 2) Curse, confound

The definition then includes an example of this which is “Fuck the thing!” – to which I can’t help but gasp in a quaintly Georgian-era manner. “Not…. (insert dramatic drum roll) the THING!” Also, it comes with a side note that it is “considered to be one of the most offensive words in the English language.” So I’m sorry if I offended you by using it. Well, only a little bit.

I think you’d be more offended if I said you could Fuddle Duddle because, despite how cute and seemingly-meant-to-be-said-by-a-six-year-old it sounds, it actually means “go to hell; drop dead.” People aren’t going to expect that. So the next time your boss makes you angry, just give a little shrug and drop a casual “oh fuddle duddle.” The boss will think you handled that situation like a pro and you’ll get the satisfaction of telling him or her to nicely go fuck themselves. Essentially.

There are clearly a lot of awesome things I’ve come across in the dictionary over the past few weeks. I will leave you with just one more, simply because it most aptly described what I was doing when I had The Behemoth hoisted high after reading Freud’s entry.

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In the wise words of Nelly Furtado… all good things come to an end. So, I included a little video below so you can hear Nelly Furtado elaborate on this a little bit. Go ahead. Press play.

Now scratch the part about lovers and friends. Why? Because I never loved Bertie The Behemoth (which is what I have decided to name my hulking companion) and we are not friends despite this constant companionship. And also, the “good thing that is coming to an end” isn’t Bertie The Behemoth, but my once glorious comeback about demolishing her.

Yup. I have not broken even yet, but over the last 8 weeks I have been steadfastly digging myself out of the egregious hole I had dug for myself with this challenge (that being the attempt to read the Canadian Oxford Dictionary in under a year by keeping a schedule of reading 35 pages a week, which I had fallen pitifully behind on.)

That’s two months. And I have to bite, claw and fight every inch of the way back to par. This week the comeback stopped. I really tried to fight to keep the comeback going, but I have to be honest… I’m tired.

I’m really, really tired.

Do I stop? Do I just walk away and pretend I never tried at all?

I could.

And some days I really consider it. Some days I want to quit. Some days I want to light a match and watch The Behemoth go up in flames. (And book burning is something I do not take lightly at all…)

But then the sun rises again, I pour a cup of coffee, and I crack open The Behemoth. Some days I win, some days I lose, but all I can do is take each loss and each win and stack them up day by day until I reach the end. It is, after all, up to me whether I make it to the end at all. And when or if I do, I’m not so sure how I’ve been defining success and failure is going to be quite right.

And speaking of defining…

Clearly the challenge itself is always on my mind, so I have found that many of the words that jump out at me and I end up scribbling down are related to the experience or how I feel about myself during this challenge. As in.. I consider myself a fantast with a fighting chance despite my false start at the beginning of this fandangle in which I am trying to fight the good fight and avoid a fiasco… but maybe I’m just a fanatic who is trying to avoid a facile way of living and in doing so made an unfortunate faux pas.

But I guess not everything is about me. Right?

Fantast – a visionary; a dreamer

Fighting chance – an opportunity of succeeding by great effort

False start – an unsuccessful attempt to begin something

Fandangle – (in sense 2) nonsense, tomfoolery

Fight the good fight – act with strong commitment to a worthy cause

Fiasco – a complete and utter failure

Fanatic – (in sense 1) a person filled with excessive and often misguided enthusiasm for something

This week I also came across a few quite powerful words. Fie being one of them. It comes from Old French from Latin and is an exclamation of disgust at a stench. That right there is powerful. Because you don’t use the word stench lightly. You could use fetid or fetor and they both relatively mean something stinky. But when you whip out the big guns and say “stench” you know that is an utterly devastating smell. Plus, fie is such a hard, short word…. I can’t wait for someone to fart so I can raise my fist to the heavens and shout an impassioned FIE!

But back to fetor. That’s also kind of a fun definition, that definition being “an offensive smell.” So it’s a bit more than just stinky. It’s offensive. Just picture yourself letting a big one rip right by a high society lady who instantly becomes offended by your fetor and curses discreetly under her breath… “fie.”

Because it’s unbecoming to use actual curse words. And to shout.

Ah. Okay, enough of this fible-fable (nonsense). Find me on facebook or twitter or subscribe over to the right of this page to follow along as I keep trying to fight the good fight… for the moment.